Bad Judgment (16 page)

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“Sorry for what?”

Our voices are hushed, as if we’re both afraid of waking his father.

“For not being there for you when I said I would be. I’m not that guy.”

They’re the words I’ve needed to hear for months, and they’re finally hanging in the air between us.

“Then why did you? You never even said.” The question has been driving me crazy since the morning I sat on my stoop, disappointment, hurt, and humiliation sloshing in my belly along with the remains of too much liquor.

“I can’t tell you why, but you have to know that it wasn’t something I could avoid or have planned for. I’ve owed you an apology for so long, and without an explanation, I know it’s a shitty one.”

He can’t tell me why. Something about the bullshit excuse takes the strength from my knees, and I sit on the edge of the bed. My T-shirt rides up, and I become acutely aware that I’m wearing nothing but that and my panties.

And I’m sitting on Ryker’s bed.

In his parents’ house.

If that’s not a string of bad decisions sewn together with even worse judgment, I’m not sure what it is.

I press both hands to the bed in a move to stand up, but Ryker’s palm slides over the top of one, pinning it in place.

“Don’t go. I know you’re pissed, and you still have every right to be, but don’t walk away from me again.”

“You can’t tell me why, but you expect me to just forgive you? I sat out in front of my apartment for over an hour waiting for you! Do you know how much that sucks? Do you know how much I regretted what we’d done the night before? It was concrete proof that me turning you down over and over was the right choice.”

Ryker releases a whoosh of breath. “I know. You’re right. I played into everything you think I am, but dammit, Justine, that’s not fucking fair. Things aren’t black and white. Shit happened that I couldn’t control.”

“Shit happens,” I repeat slowly. “Great excuse. I’ll remember that one for next time.”

I push off the bed again, but Ryker grabs my arm and tugs me down. I lose my balance and fall against him. He wastes no time taking advantage of the opportunity, and flips over to pin me to the bed.

“You’re not walking away from this.”

My T-shirt rides up further, and the hot press of his skin against mine clears my brain of any protests I’d been about to make.

“Are you naked?” I ask, my voice unsteady from the booze. The heat of his body is soaking into me, and I’m pretty sure the head of his penis just brushed against my belly. Naked. Skin on skin.

“Yes.”

Oh my God.

I freeze, unsure what to do. Ryker Grant, who I’ve decided I have
absolutely nothing
going on with, is lying on top of me naked. With a hard-on. And it’s touching me.

And instead of struggling to free myself, my body wants to wrap around him for more contact. Heat builds between my legs, and my panties are damp. In minutes they’re going to be soaked, and he’ll be able to feel it.

“Your heart is pounding, Justine.”

“You’re lying on top of me naked,
Ryker
.”

“You like it.”

I go quiet. What am I supposed to say?
No, I hate it. Get your sexy-as-hell body off me because I need to go back to my room and get myself off before I’ll be able to get any sleep?
Yeah. No. Not happening.

“You should probably get off me now.” My voice drops into a whisper.

“I don’t want to move.”

His face lowers closer to mine, and I can feel his breath on my skin. He doesn’t ask for permission. Doesn’t offer to move. Instead, his lips slide along my jaw, leaving tendrils of sensation in their wake.

My panties? Let’s not talk about the state of them.

When his lips hit the shell of my ear and his teeth graze the lobe, I can’t stop my body’s response. My hips buck upward, seeking the delicious friction I need.

And I get that friction by rubbing my clit against the hard length of Ryker’s cock.

I should be embarrassed. Should be horrified. But I’ve stopped thinking, and I’m operating on pure instinct backed by booze-fueled courage. I haven’t had another orgasm as good as the one I stole in the back hallway of the bar—and the good Lord knows I’ve tried. All summer. It’s like I’ve got all this pent-up need burning inside me, waiting for him to unleash it.

“Fuck, Justine. That feels so goddamn good. I can feel those sweet little pussy lips against my cock.”

I’ve never been a girl for dirty talk, or so I thought, but when Ryker voices those rumbling words in the darkness of this room, my nipples harden and I buck harder against him.

I can’t stop myself. I want it, and he’s going to let me take it.

“You like that, baby? Rubbing against my cock. You gonna come for me? Let me hear that sweet sound?”

“Yes.” I moan, and he takes my lips as I work my hips against him.

“Come for me, and then I’m gonna eat that pussy and finally get a taste of what I’ve been dying for all these years.”

It doesn’t take much to send myself over the edge. The orgasm slams into me and radiates outward through my body. I keep up the pressure, the friction, grabbing every little bit of pleasure that I can until it finally fades away.

Only then do I realize that my hands are locked around Ryker’s bare shoulders, my nails digging into the skin of his back.

I release my grip immediately and mumble, “I’m so sorry,” as embarrassment fills me.

What the hell did I just do?
I used Ryker as my own personal sex toy and got off dry-humping him like a teenager. Mortification burns my cheeks, and I know if it were light in this room, my face would be red.

“Nothing to be sorry for, baby. And we’re not done.”

He presses his cock against my pussy, setting off aftershocks of pleasure, and a moan escapes my lips.

“I love hearing you come for me. I can’t get enough of that sound.”

He moves down the bed and kneels above me. My eyes zero in on his cock. It’s thick and long and rises up to almost touch his belly button. The dick print didn’t do it justice, because apparently he’s a shower and a grower.

My mouth, which has never watered at the sight of a penis before, floods with moisture, and all I can think is how badly I want my lips wrapped around the crown. I know from the touch of it against my belly, the skin is smooth and hot.

Since when have I ever been desperate to put a dick in my mouth? Since never. It must be the haze of orgasm messing with my head.

But I can’t get rid of the thought. I’ve got two choices—get the hell out of here, or stay.

Ryker

Now that I’ve heard Justine come, a question is battering around in my brain—did she come that night I pinned her up against the wall in the back hallway of the bar? I have to know, but I’m fumbling with how to ask the question because her eyes are locked on my dick and she’s practically licking her lips.

Fuck, my dick would look amazing between those lips.

I yank my thoughts back to the question at hand. “That night at the bar? In the hallway when I kissed you? Did you come? I didn’t think anyone could come that easy.”

I wish I could see her face, because I would bet anything that her cheeks are bright red.

She mumbles something I can’t make out.

“What was that?”

“This is so humiliating,” she whispers. “I just dry-humped you. Like we’re fifteen or something.”

I smile at her words. I sure haven’t gone this slow with any woman since I hit sophomore year of high school, so she’s not far off in that assessment.

“I want to make you come again.”

Deciding the best way to stem her embarrassment is to do exactly that, I press a quick kiss to her lips before sliding down her body until only the soaked panties she’s wearing separate my mouth from my goal.

“I want to taste you. Touch you. Make you come harder than you’ve ever come before. I want this wet pussy in my mouth. On my tongue. I want you to come on my face this time.”

Justine’s eyes widen but there’s no protest from her lips, and even a slight nod.

She wants it too. I know she does. Because I’m right there with her.

I keep my eyes on hers as I hook a finger in the material of her panties at each hip and draw them down. Sweet fucking heaven—that’s what I reveal. A tiny dark strip of hair and bare pussy lips are before me.

“You’re so fucking pretty.” I glance up to meet her eyes. “Right down to your tight little pussy.”

She likes the dirty talk. I could tell when she was rubbing against me and my words sent her over the edge. Well, she’ll get plenty of it from me because it turns me on just as much.

I lower my mouth and waste no time getting that first taste by sweeping my tongue between her lips.

Sweet. Fucking. Heaven. She’s tart and tangy and everything I wanted her to be and more. I know I should start slow and take my time, but the taste of her goes straight to my head. I
devour
.

Justine’s quiet moans and cries are the only incentive I need to keep going. I’m going to make this so good for her that she’ll never be able to think about her pussy without remembering how good it felt with my mouth on her.

I’m going to ruin her for other men. No one will ever make her come as hard as I will.

I move my hand to slide a finger inside her and the muscles clamp down on me. A second finger has her writhing against my mouth, and I wrap my lips around her clit and suck. Her moans quiet, and I look up to see Justine holding a pillow over her mouth to silence the sound.

I keep going, sucking, licking, tonguing, and fingering her until her legs tense and a muted cry reaches my ears. Her inner muscles convulse around my fingers, and I don’t stop until her fingers curl into my hair and lift my head.

Justine’s wide eyes are hazy with pleasure, and I love knowing I did that. I want to be the only man who can do that for her.

When did I decide I was keeping her?

Shit, does the answer to that question really matter? Because Justine’s not the kind of woman you can decide to keep if she doesn’t want to be kept. My future—well-planned out not so very long ago—is now as hazy as her eyes. I don’t know what the fuck I want to do with my life, but I know Justine has specific plans for hers.

I push up from between her legs, keeping my eyes on hers as I lean forward and kiss her. Against her lips I ask, “Do you like how you taste, baby? Because I think you taste amazing.”

She doesn’t reply, only jams her fingers into my hair again and yanks me closer, taking the lead. The kiss lasts for long minutes until she pulls back. My cock is throbbing, and there’s nothing I want to do more than bury it inside her right now.

But Justine jerks away and slides out from under me. “I have to go. I can’t do this. We have to stop.”

I grab her hand as she stumbles to her feet, stalling her hasty exit. “Can’t do what? We just did.”

Justine shakes her head. “We have to stop. This can’t happen. I can’t afford for this to happen.”

I have no idea what she’s talking about, but she’s full of shit. “This is happening, whether you can afford for it to happen or not. You can’t imagine how bad I want to make you come again. There’s nothing wrong with what we’re doing.”

She squeezes her eyes shut as she turns away, tugging at the hold I have on her hand.

“Let me go.”

“No.”

She turns back, face blank. “You don’t have a choice.”

There’s something in her eyes I can’t read, and as much as I want to drag her back into my bed and keep her there all night, I don’t want to do it fighting her every step of the way. I’ve been chasing her for over two years, and she’s pushed me away at every opportunity. I thought things would change. I thought we’d found level ground, but she’s still pushing me away.

Frustration mounts and I drop her hand. “You need to realize you can only push someone away so many times before they stop coming back.”

“I never asked you to keep coming back.” Justine’s words are quietly final as she slips out of my room through the bathroom, shutting the door behind her with a creak of the hinges.

Maybe she didn’t ask me to, but that has never stopped me. Am I really going to let her push me away and not chase her this time?

And what did she mean, she can’t afford for this to happen? What does she have to lose?

My mind works overtime as I lie in bed, alone. She lost her scholarship. I’m almost positive she didn’t take a job at the strip club. She must have gotten student loans . . . but if she didn’t, then how the hell is she paying for school? Her job at the business school library can’t possibly cover the tuition costs, and based on her reaction about her car and what she said about getting lucky to find a cheap place to live, I know she’s not rolling in cash.

So, what the hell is left?